


Firsthand Research

by Lex_Munro



Series: Stories From the Fateverse [27]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sci-fi, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crossover, Dimension-Hopping, Gen, Rule 63, Technobabble, alternate Doctor(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lex_Munro/pseuds/Lex_Munro
Summary: The Founder gets to take a little field trip with two other Doctors.





	Firsthand Research

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:**   crossovers, fateverse, sci-fi, UK English (with US English where 'Murrican characters are speaking), and the Savant’s pottymouth.
> 
>  **disclaimer:**   recognizeable characters belong to Marvel, the BBC, NBC/Universal, and the Gene Roddenberry Estate.
> 
>  **timeline:**   follows up on [**Consult**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979655) and [**Rescue-napped**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10093280/chapters/22482830).
> 
>  **notes:**   1) Sally Sparrow was the protagonist of episode 310 of Doctor Who.  2) the Founder frequently ‘loses’ his socks and shoes.  supposedly, his toes ‘cry out for freedom’ and he can’t hear himself think.  3) Jack wouldn’t be Jack without his greatcoat.  4) MeanGirl!Doctor wears lubus.  this is Very Important, so that you understand ~~why she’s so mean~~ that she is the sort of person who kicks butt in stilettos.  i don’t know if she’d be able to walk in flats.  5) Ginger, Maryann, and the Professor are all characters from Gilligan’s Island, a pratfall comedy series featuring a band of castaways stranded on a tropical island—the eponymous character filled the role of jester, frequently spoiling rescue/escape efforts through clumsiness or ignorance.  6) even though everybody else considers bowties and braces (well, the characters all seem to notice the chin first) to be Eleven’s most distinguishing physical features, i was always stuck on his short trousers and knobby ankles.  7) “candyfloss” = “cotton candy”  8) the Founder often uses his knowledge of alternate timelines to manipulate people.  9) intradimensional pocketing (the phenomenon of making pocket dimensions or unnatural expansions of space) is how Time Lord buildings, ships, and coats are Bigger on the Inside.  10) “oh, my stars and garters” is Beast’s classic tagline.  something surprising?  omsag!  nifty science?  omsag!  shocking reveal panel?  omsag!  11) in episode 612, Eleven used the ‘shh’ and ‘un-shh’ trick on the chatty girl who worked the ladies’ underthings department.  12) “bollocks” = “balls,” a pg-level Brit swear.  13) Ryan Reynolds’ ears stick out.  Mean Girl seizes the opportunity to make a lewd joke, like any other self-respecting bisexual would do (i know i would).

**Firsthand Research**

  


The Founder has just started to write about Sally Sparrow when Jack Carter arrives at his door again.

“Sir.”

He sets his pen aside and marks his place.  “Another priority order?”

“Yes, sir.  Only…I think maybe you should bring a jacket this time.”

“Oh?”

Jack nods.  “Instead of arranging for time inside the facility, the order specifically asks for a temporary custody transfer.”

Looks like they might get to examine their subject after all.

He takes a moment to dust off his shoes (he hardly wore them before his incarceration, and he almost never wears them now) and put them on.  Nice, respectable brown Oxfords.  The coat hanging by the door to his cell actually belonged to his husband (another little piece of self-flagellation).  He pulls it on.

He never really cuts the dashing figure in it that the good captain always did, but wearing it feels like going home.  He could go anywhere, suffer anything, and still be home so long as he had this coat.

“It doesn’t fit you very well,” the Senior Warder notes.

“That’s because it belonged to my husband, Mister Carter,” the Founder tells him.  “Surely you’ve seen one just like it next door.”

It’s afternoon, so the full gamut of tormentors is awake and waiting.  If not for walls and nullres fields, he’s sure some of them would be pelting him with rotten fruit.  Rose, the Rivers, a few Jacks, Fitz, one of the Donnas.  Jeering and taunting and hurling invective.

He’s forgotten just how deeply he can be hated, it seems.  Perhaps he should take more walks down the corridor as a reminder.

_You don’t fool us, Time Lord Victorious.  You belong in a box without windows or doors.  You’re not a hero, so don’t go thinking you are.  Been to the Library lately?  Funny how you’re here and Missy isn’t—you and she’d have got along famously, you know._

Seth (one of the Warders on duty at the head of the corridor) pulls out a tracking cuff and fastens it around the Founder’s wrist.  “Per Network Law, you are being fitted with a temporary tracking device in order to undergo custody transfer out-of-bundle,” he recites from memory.  “If you or any other person attempts to tamper with or remove the tracker without authorization, you will be in violation of your incarceration.  Try to keep your shoes on, sir, and we’ll see you when you get back.”

Ezri is waiting outside the detention centre, pacing and agitated.  “Sir, I am so sorry, I know how you hate to be disturbed, I assure you that I’ll be filling out a complaint form directly to Dr. Samson and Director Hand, this is absolutely unaccept—”

The Founder taps her nose gently to shush her.  “It’ll be all right, Doctor Tegan.”

“But sir, you shouldn’t have to—”

He taps her nose again.

Their conduit control room has several more guards than usual; inside the Savant is waiting beside Mean Girl With the Lovely Brown Skin (a delightful addition to the collection of Grumpy Doctors, really, and he’s terribly jealous of the Doctors who’ve gotten to be her) and Nervous Little Ginger (a rarity, but an important one).

The Savant gestures to them each in turn.  “Ginger, Maryann, the Professor.  We’re going on a little field trip, kids.”

Jack clears his throat.  “Uh, sir?  Custody transfer?”

“Yeah, yeah…”  The Savant beckons the Founder closer.  “Keeper 056 accepting custody of Inmate 001, subject designate John Smith NC022-Sigma.  Escorting subject designate Doctor LM610-Eta and subject designate Doctor XB3110-Omicron.”

“Oh,” says the third Doctor, holding out his right hand to Mean Girl.  “Hello, Doctor!”

She gives him a disdainful look.  “We’ve just been kidnapped, and you want to make friends?  Idiot.”

“Play nice, or I’ll switch you out for a different model,” the Savant grunts.  “Them I need, you’re negotiable.”

Ginger rubs his hands together and looks a bit crestfallen at the icy reception.  “Will we be gone long?  Only he said he’d be right back, and I wouldn’t like to miss him again.  I told Amelia I’d be back, and she…  Last time, I missed him, and I…I need to be here.”

“What are you babbling about?” the Savant grunts.

“Who brought him here?” the Founder asks.

“Agent 211.  It seemed like he’d be best equipped for a gentle retrieval in the middle of a gunfight.”

Ah, yes.  The sensible option, most would say.  Most Jacks are infinite regenerators, and several Jacks have an innate weakness to Omicron Doctors that triggers their protective instincts.  Resonant precursors to Omicrons don’t get a turn as Big Chin With the Bowties and Giraffe Legs; they get Nervous Little Ginger instead, and it’s like all the most disarming qualities they didn’t have in their various Grumpy faces are concentrated into a single ball of fluffy ginger candyfloss.  Only people who kick baby animals and say ‘bah humbug’ at Christmas can resist the power of all that freckle-faced sweetness (that’s what the Jamie six cells down once claimed, anyhow).

Come to think of it, 211 has to deal with Grumpy Doctors on a regular basis, and could stand to be sweetened up a bit.  Quite possibly it’s the Founder’s fault that he’s somewhat salty toward Doctors.  Perhaps a bit of redress wouldn’t go amiss…

“Wade, I would appreciate it very much if you would have Agent 211 come and fetch the Doctor when it’s time for him to go home.”

Taken aback, the Savant physically reels.  “Excuse you very fucking much?  Do I look like a goddamn taxi service?”

“Messenger service, actually.  He’s done nothing wrong, and if you’ll take a moment to think of him as a person instead of an annoyance, I think you’ll quite like him.  More than anything, your mother wanted you to grow up to be kind.  So please, Wade—be kind.”

“Fuck you,” their minder hisses with damp eyes.  But his hand is gentle when he turns and herds Ginger toward the conduit panel.

The transporter opens a conduit to the Network Core.

So they really will be allowed to examine the Savant’s mysterious guinea pig.

How exciting.

When they arrive, an armed escort is waiting.  From nearly anyone else in the Network, the Founder would consider them an honour guard…since it’s the Savant calling the shots, however, he assumes they’ve been given orders to regenerate the first Doctor to step a toe out of line.

They get a car to themselves on the sublev, and a lot of guns pointed their way.

“That’s not typical maglev tech,” Mean Girl muses, ear cocked as she listens to the sound of the tram.  “Is it enthalpy-driven, then?”

“Powered by subterranean heat vents,” the Founder confirms.  “Keeps the surface less cluttered without having to use intradimensional pocketing, which can wreak havoc on certain important subjects.”

Ginger makes a thoughtful noise.  “They wouldn’t have enjoyed Gallifrey.”

They stop at the Medical Centre, and the guards at the checkpoint register them as escorted subjects.

“Stay within three meters of our host while in the corridors,” the Founder suggests.

As expected, they’re led to the Chrononeurology Lab.  Several members of their armed escort come into the lab with them and line the walls.

“Oh, my stars and garters,” says the Head Medic.  “Doctor Wilson, I don’t want to overstep, but are all these Warders really necessary?”

“I’ll forgive you, since you never leave the bundle and Time Lords are extinct here,” the Savant replies.  “Time Lords are the reason the Network exists.  If there were any in this bundle, we would probably have to arrest or kill them all.  Fortunately, the Barefoot Wonder over there annihilated his entire race.  Almost all versions of the Doctor are walking jinxes.”

“Bit strong,” grumbles Mean Girl.

“Considering how dangerous our test subject is, I just feel it’s a bit redundant,” the Head Medic mumbles to a notebook in his hands.

“The Network thrives on redundancy, Doctor McCoy,” the Founder points out.

“Of course you’re right, sir, but I can’t help thinking it’s all rather insulting when you more or less authored our entire way of life.”

Ginger raises his hand like a schoolboy.  “Excuse me…only, I can’t help wondering why we’re here.  Two thirds of us were abducted, after all.”

“ _You_ were rescued,” snorts the Savant.

“I had everything very nearly under control.”

The Founder senses the approach of another unreadable mind.  “Another Wade,” he says aloud.  “That does explain a few things, doesn’t it?”

A woman in a lab coat ushers their test subject into the room.

“What’s with Ginger, Maryann, and the Professor?” Wade asks.

“Does that make you Gilligan?” Mean Girl says sweetly.

“They call me the Traveler, actually.”

“I’m the Doctor,” says Ginger, grinning and holding out his hand to shake.  “Sorry, _we_ —we’re the Doctors.  Timeline intersection is all a bit new to me.  I’m honestly having a bit of a stretch keeping up, what with my little impairment.  Normally, I’d have the Pinks to help out, they’re schoolteachers you see, and the Missus did me up some lovely little flash cards that—”

“Shh,” says the Founder, with a nudge of firm mental suggestion.

Ginger clams up and takes his hand back just as the Traveller reaches to shake it (he gives a one-handed shrug before shaking his head and turning to the examination chair where he’s doubtless been spending all his days).

“I take it we’re here to scan the test subject,” the Founder goes on.  “As we suggested to you nearly two months ago.”

The Savant waves a dismissive hand through the air.  “And I told you I’d have to get my brain amputated to think it was a good idea to let a trio of planet-erasing criminals run loose.”

“So you’ve narrowed it to just the one of me, then.  How did you decide you needed more than one Doctor and which ones you’d want?”

“The Network thrives on redundancy,” he retorts snidely.  “He’s the lowest entropy Doctor in the entire Grey Band, and she’s here to keep you two on task.  Do whatever scans you want, as long as it’s non-invasive.  We have nineteen weeks, subjective time, to figure out how to safely replicate his brainslides in another subject.”

“Brainslides are a particular variety of long-distance inter-dimensional telepathic travel,” the Founder explains before either of his other selves can ask.  He points to Ginger and says, “Un-shh.”

“He can crop up inside someone else’s brain in another dimension?” Ginger asks with wide eyes.

“And control their bodies,” the Traveller confirms.  “I gradually get their memories, too—the longer I stay, the more it seems like it’s my own body and everything else was just a dream.  I literally _become_ my counterpart in whatever universe I go to.  Sometimes I’m only there for a few minutes, but sometimes it’s _years_.  I spent three decades as a popular actor, at one point.”

“But that’s brilliant!” exclaim Mean Girl and Ginger at the same time.

“Have you got any scans of it happening?” Mean Girl prods.  “What sort of data have you already got on this?  Give over!”

The Savant puts down his little projector and various files flash to life above it.

She scrolls through it all at a furious pace, Ginger pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with her to read it as well.  After a moment, she straightens and pats her pockets.  “Bollocks!  Oswin’s still got my sonic!”

“Ooh, I’d just found mine when Jack kidnapped me,” Ginger says, offering it.

“This…this is nice,” Mean Girl grudgingly admits as she looks at it.

“Thanks.  Sexy upgraded me after my last one had a bit of an accident at the Pinks’ wedding.”

“You call your TARDIS ‘Sexy’?”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s a bit objectifying, isn’t it?”

“And she had a chance to object but didn’t.  In fact, she seemed quite taken with it.  Why, what’d you call yours?”

“Idris,” Mean Girl says primly.

“Impairment,” the Founder mumbles to himself, something tickling at the edge of non-memory.  Somewhere in Time, in some divergent reality, he’d seen a Doctor whose senses weren’t quite what they ought to be.  How odd that he can’t seem to recall anything further…

“Maybe if we could get Handlebars over there to do one of these ‘brainslides’ while we’ve got the sonic pointed at Gilligan’s brain?”

“Handlebars?” echoes Ginger.

Mean Girl cups her hands demonstratively behind her ears and wiggles her eyebrows as she moves her hands to make a rather rude downward grasping motion.

Ginger chokes on a strangled laugh as the Savant grouses, “I saw that, asshole!”

“Sorry,” lies Mean Girl.  “Equal opportunity sexual harasser.  But really:  could you do the trans-dimensional-telepathy thing while we’re actively scanning?  Please and thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, the Savant pokes some controls.

Wade goes completely rigid for about three quarters of a second, then falls completely limp.

The Founder ambles over and leans down to peer into Wade’s eyes.  He chances a light touch to Wade’s brow—

Nothing.

Like Wade’s mind is just…

“Gone,” he says, puzzled.  “Is the brainware what’s keeping his body going, then?”

“It appears that way,” the Head Medic confirms.

“Curious.  So if his entire mind travels—not just some sort of projection, but actual physical transport of his brainwaves—what happens to the mind of the person whose body he commandeers?  Because you already said that the…‘host’…suffers no long-term ill effects from the trip.”

“What, indeed,” the Savant agrees.  “The crux of the study.  The process has proven to be safe for his hosts, aside from whatever mishaps he may cause while at the metaphorical wheel.  If we can duplicate it, erase-first slides will become obsolete.  Other Keepers will be able to brainslide instead of using conventional slides or conduit transit.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to go out and do it all in person?” Ginger wonders.

“Maybe your host is more physically capable than you are,” suggests Mean Girl.  “Maybe there’s something about the environment that would be toxic to you in your own body.  But mostly your host can die without you being harmed.”

“That’s absolutely horrific!”

The Founder straightens up.  “The current alternative is to completely erase the host’s mind first, effectively killing him regardless of the visitor’s subsequent actions.  What Doctor Wilson wants out of this is the option to let his hosts say goodbye before their worlds burn.”

“Oh,” says Ginger, subsiding.  “Personally, I hate goodbyes.  Goodbyes are endings, and I hate endings.”

“Endings happen to everyone, get over it!” Mean Girl snaps.

“Oh, dear,” the Founder says to no one in particular as the inevitable happens.

The fact is that Nervous Little Ginger iterations of the Doctor have a tendency, when their feelings are hurt, to stare in complete disbelief at the perpetrator while enormous, remarkably photogenic (one might even hazard to use the word ‘crystalline’) tears roll down their faces.  Stage two of this reaction is the Abject Apology, followed sometimes by either Messy Sobbing or Hasty Retreat.  Perhaps it’s some sort of evolved defence, like eye-spots or disturbingly pungent distress pheromones…

Partway through stage two, the Savant puts a hand over Mean Girl’s mouth and tells her, “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘please don’t apologize’ or ‘please stop crying,’ I’m going to gag you.”

With a pointed glare, she says, “Please stop crying; you’re getting the test subject all soggy.”

The Head Medic helpfully passes Ginger a box of disposable tissues; he pulls out a fistful and loudly blows his nose.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.  “Thank you.  Sorry.  I know I cry perhaps a bit too much.  I’ve been told I’m overly sensitive.”

The Savant gives Mean Girl a look that has guns and knives in it.

She rolls her eyes and holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

And so stage three is averted.

“How long does it usually take for him to get back from—” Mean Girl starts to say, just as the Traveller blinks and sits up.

“I’m…soggy.  Why am I soggy?”

  


**.End.**


End file.
